


Insubordination

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dominant Castiel, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M, Panty Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith's new secretary sees something he shouldn't. Total PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insubordination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anythingtoasted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/gifts).



> Inspired by Pastrymisha and Divachester's prompts on tumblr: 
> 
> HEY HEY okay you know what the world needs? dean smith/cas porn where dean moves into a fancier office with huge glass windows and a full glass door, or maybe he just sneaks into one and he pages cas up and when cas arrives, dean's bent over the desk in nothing but a garter belt and one of his best shirts. and he gets cas to fuck him right there for all of downtown to see. 
> 
> Thank you hugely to drownedinblissfulconfusion, deanhugchester and winjennster for responding for my cry for betas and doing AWESOME WORK. 
> 
> MORE thanks to my tumblrwife drownedinblissfulconfusion/tundraeternal for the TITLE.

Dean Smith, Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge and Iron, Inc, is a very busy man.

He has spreadsheets to manage almost every part of his life, whether it’s his clients, his metrics, or his diet.

He’s a man who’s prepared for everything.

Except this.

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and it’s his first day in his new position. His new assistant, Castiel Novak, stares down at him, frowning, as Dean lies sprawled on the floor of his brand-new, 15th floor office where he had tripped and fallen moments ago.

“Mr. Smith?” asks Castiel, narrowing his eyes. “Do you need assistance?” And _oh god,_ thinks Dean, _his voice is pure sex_.

Dean, to his own horror, _blushes_.

“No, Castiel, that will be all. Just... uh, just print my calendar up when you get a chance. And bring it up.” He rolls over, starts to climb to his feet. Too late, he realizes his mistake.

His shirt has come untucked from the back of his pants, and as he pushes himself from the floor he feels it slip above his waistband just as his pants slide down just a bit.

His blush deepens as he rises and catches sight of Castiel's face, which has changed to an expression of intrigue. "That’ll be all, Castiel, you can go," he snaps, turning and tucking his shirt hastily back into his pants as he stumbles behind his new desk. As he sits, he avoids glancing back up. He finally does hoping the man will have done the polite thing and slipped out the door. Instead, he finds a pair of blue eyes watching him intently.

"Yes?" He says, voice inexplicably rough. He meets the man's stare and refuses to give in to his impulse to break their locked gazes, despite what he knows Castiel saw.

Castiel gives a small smile. "Pink is a lovely color on you, Mr. Smith." He turns and walks out, closing the door behind him.

Dean stares after him, gaping, and reaches down to adjust his suddenly rock-hard cock. 

\----

It's just past 5 o'clock on Friday.

Dean's standing in the corner of his office doing calf raises and staring out the window, nodding along to Mr. Adler's instructions over his bluetooth headset, when he sees his door swing open in the window's reflection. His assistant enters and walks forward.

Suddenly Dean finds it hard to concentrate on his boss's voice. Castiel is standing just a little too close for comfort, and his eyes are boring into Dean's.

Dean can't look away.

He finishes his conversation but he has no idea what he said. Mr. Adler hangs up and the dial tone beeps in his ear.

Castiel frowns at the noise and reaches up, pulling the earpiece from Dean's ear. He sets it on the desk and steps closer, now only inches from Dean's chest. "Mr. Smith."

"Yes, Castiel? What is it?" Dean tries to step back but he's already pressed against the full-length glass.

Castiel still stares at him. Dean's starting to wonder if he's got something on his face, or if there's some other reason his assistant can't look away.  "it's past 5. You shouldn’t still be in the office, Mr. Smith." Castiel's voice is dark and low. "Isn't there some place you go to relax when the week is over?" He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Or someone you go see to relieve the stress of this position?"

Dean finds he can't quite catch his breath. He shakes his head, pressing himself back against the window and desperately hoping Castiel doesn't look down and notice that Dean is hard, erection tenting his pants obscenely towards the other man.

Castiel looks down.

When he drags his gaze back up, slowly, there's a dangerous glint in his eyes and a small smirk on his face. "I noticed your non-traditional undergarments the last time we were alone here, Mr. Smith. I’m curious: do you wear them frequently?"

Dean nods, unable to speak through the haze of arousal that fills him at the man's dark voice and appraising gaze.

“Are you wearing them now, Dean?” 

A shiver pulses through Dean at the intimate sound of his name, and he nods again.

“Show me, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is barely a whisper, but the tone is commanding.

Dean glances at the door. It’s glass; directly across from his desk and from where they stand. Anyone who walks by will see them clearly.

Castiel reaches a hand up and gently directs Dean’s face back towards his own. 

“Dean.”

Dean leans into the touch, realizing that despite working together for a week and two strangely charged moments, this is the first time they’ve actually touched.

Castiel watches him closely. “It’s nearly 6 o’clock on a Friday. Nearly everyone has gone home for the weekend. The chance of anyone walking by is slim.” His hand moves to grip Dean’s chin. “Will you trust me?”

Dean’s only known Castiel for a week, and yet somehow he finds himself nodding and reaching for his fly. 

“Good.” Castiel’s hand slides to his cheek, then down to the back of his neck, holding his hand there while Dean unzips his pinstriped trousers with shaking hands.

Dean reaches to undo his suspenders, but he halts when a hand catches hold of his wrist. He looks up at Castiel, who shakes his head and slides Dean’s suspenders from his shoulders.

Dean hesitates for a moment, then slides his pants down to his ankles, fumbling a bit as he bends down and tries to step out of them with Castiel so close. He can’t help but brush his cheek against the fabric of the other man’s pants where they tent over his erection as Dean leans over. He catches the scent of Castiel’s arousal through the cheap cotton of his rumpled pants and lets out a small, needy noise. He stands back up after unlacing his oxfords with shaking hands and setting them aside, then stands against the glass window, shaking and blushing from his ears down to this chest.

Dean suddenly realizes that anyone in the building across the street could be looking, and resists the urge to turn and look if any of the lights are on. His are, and if they were on a lower floor anyone on the street could look up and get quite a show.

Turning his attention back to his assistant, he startles. While Dean had been considering the possibility that they were being observed, Castiel had been doing some close observation of his own. He had slid to his knees in front of Dean and was now reaching for him, hands hovering over Dean’s hips.

Dean didn’t wear panties every day, of course not. That would be ridiculous.

But this morning he had looked at his calendar and realized it was going to be a long, miserable day, just as he had had yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that. If he could make it a bit more tolerable by having a secret underneath his clothes that only he knew, so what? It made him a better employee and brought a smile to his face that he desperately needed when working with his clients. 

Today had been an especially busy day, with a number of meetings with demanding, unpleasant people. It had been the sort of day that had made him open his special drawer in the morning and put on his stockings and garters as well as the lacy pink panties Castiel had liked so much earlier in the week.

These were what Castiel was staring at now. His hands landed firmly on the top of Dean’s thighs, and he leaned forward. His warm breath ghosted over Dean’s trapped cock. 

“What would you like, Dean?” Castiel leaned closer, lips brushing the tented silk. “Tell me.”

Dean swallows and stares down at the man before him, speechless.

Castiel looks up at him, mouth spreading into a slight smile. “Do you want my mouth on your panties? Is that what you’d like?” He leans forward, nose brushing the hair that peeks out above Dean’s waistband. “You want to feel me suck you through the silk?” He opens his mouth and brushes his lips against the straining fabric.

Dean shudders and can’t help but thrust his hips forward a bit. “Yes,” he stutters, breathing fast. “Please.”

Castiel stands quickly and before Dean can blink he’s turned Dean around and pushed him against the desk, face up, brushing aside papers and folders and letting Dean’s phone and keyboard crash to the floor.

“Then you need to ask for it, Dean.” Castiel leans against him, pressing him into the desk. Dean can feel the edge of the wood pressing into his thighs through the nylon of his stockings and tries to shift, but is held motionless by his surprisingly powerful assistant. Dean usually sleeps with women he meets in bars that cater to people like him: professional, polite people who dress well and eat right. Sex with them tends to be eminently fair and courteous, not this wild and breathless exchange. Castiel has total control of the situation and somehow the fact that Dean is held down so completely is unbelievably arousing. 

Castiel lets up slightly and runs a hand down Dean’s chest as his other hand captures both Dean’s wrists and presses them against the desk over Dean’s head. “Now tell me what you want.”

Dean moans as Castiel’s hand brushes his nipple, then gasps, “Touch me, Castiel. I want you to touch me.”

Castiel smiles. “You look so pretty in this silk and nylon, Dean. “ He runs his hand down until it teases along the lace of Dean’s panties. “I think I’d like you to leave them on for me.” He reaches up slightly to unbutton Dean’s salmon-colored shirt quickly. “This, however...” he releases Dean’s wrists and pulls the shirt from him, “this doesn’t suit you at all.” He steps back, removing his hands, and Dean whimpers as cold air replaces the feel of Castiel’s warm body across his own. He starts to rise, or to cover himself somehow, but a glare from Castiel sends him back down on the desk instantly, hands above his head.

Castiel looks down at him appraisingly, taking in the picture he makes spread across the desk. His legs are parted, wrapped in pale nylon that hugs every muscle in his bowed legs. They’re held up with pink garters around his thighs, digging in slightly where they grip his skin. His matching silk panties are damp with precome and saliva, waistband pulling away from his stomach as the head of his cock peeks out beneath the lacy elastic. 

“You look lovely, Dean,” says Castiel, sliding a hand down his own chest to palm his cock through his pants. “You chose the colors well.” He reaches forward with his other hand and slides the panties aside slightly, letting Dean’s cock slip out the leg hole but leaving the panties securely in place. He runs a finger along the shaft lightly, smiling as Dean shudders against his touch. “Do you like that?”

Dean nods, cock twitching, and thrusts upwards slightly. Castiel lays his other hand against the silk, just below the base of Dean’s cock so it presses his balls between his legs and holds down his twitching hips.

“I need you to stay still for me, Dean. Can you do that?”

Dean fights the restraining hand for a moment, then gives in and nods.

“I want to hear you, Dean.”

“Yes. God, yes. Please... please touch me, Cas.”

The hand brushing his cock freezes for a second, then continues. “What’s my name, Dean?”

Dean gulps at the command in Castiel’s voice.

“Castiel. Touch me, Castiel. I need your hands on me.” He curls upwards, trying to reach Castiel’s mouth, but the pressure on his balls increases and he drops back down quickly.

“Don’t test me, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low and harsh. “You’ll be punished.”

Dean melts against the desk with the rush of warmth that sentence evokes in him.

Castiel chuckles quietly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to show you what you’ve done wrong.” Castiel’s hand suddenly wraps around his cock tightly and strokes once, twice, three times. “Is that what you want, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean’s head is thrown back as the sensations of Cas’s hand overwhelm him, but he gasps out, “Yes, Castiel! Yes, please!”

The hand disappears and suddenly his hips are caught between Castiel’s warm palms as Dean is flipped over on his stomach. He struggles for purchase, ass hanging off the desk, cock grinding against the wood. Castiel’s hands slide to his buttocks, revealed by the lacy thong, and spread them wide. The edge of the desk rests between his cock and his balls, fabric pulled taut against him, and he groans as he rocks against the cool desktop. 

“Now none of that, Dean. You move when I tell you to, and not before.” Castiel steps forward until his clothed cock brushes the silk of Dean’s thong.

Dean can’t help but press back, despite Castiel’s instructions.

The hardness behind him pulls away, and Dean shivers with anticipation.

The first slap is a surprise, and Dean jerks across the desk. He groans as the friction rubs the lace of his panties against his cock.

The second slap comes across the other cheek, light and teasing. Dean tenses as it withdraws, anticipating.

The next blow doesn’t come, and Dean’s ass relaxes from its clenched wait. Just as his muscles let go of their tension, a third hard slap falls directly on the lace wedged in his crack and he jerks, back arching and a moan tearing itself out of his throat.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Dean? Is that what you would like?” murmurs Castiel into his ear, leaning forward so his tie brushes against Dean’s back and his breath puffs into Dean’s ear.

“Please, Castiel,” Dean whispers, turning his head towards Castiel’s and trying to catch his lips in a kiss.

Castiel gives a quiet laugh, just a huff of breath against Dean’s cheek, and rises back up behind him. “Stay still, Dean. Don’t move, or I will stop.”

Dean nods against the table, and feels a warm rush in his stomach as he hears a zipper lowering behind him. He resisted the temptation to look back. He was learning what Castiel wanted; learning that if he was obedient, Castiel would make it worth his while

The next sound he hears is the snap of a bottle, and he forces himself to relax. A hand rests gently on his hip and strokes his side a few times before sliding up to grip his buttock and hold his panties to the side, exposing his crack. The other hand, slick with warm lube, brushes across his hole, circling slowly.

Dean fights to resist bucking up into the touch, but he whimpers loudly as the finger presses inside slowly.

“I want to hear you, Dean. I know you want to make more noise than this. Let go for me.” Castiel’s voice is closer than Dean expects and makes him shiver and moan as he tries to follow the instruction.

Castiel works him open slowly, gently, until Dean is writhing and gasping with pleasure under his touch. The softness of his stretching and the hand that resumes its stroking across Dean’s body is a stark contrast to the fierce urgency of earlier, and Dean feels like he’s being pulled apart like taffy, stretched and warmed until he’s melting over the desk. He’s lost all control over his mouth and sounds are filling that air that he hardly can believe are his own.

Finally, Castiel withdraws his fingers and Dean whines, “Cas- Castiel, please, I need-” and is cut off by his own long groan as Castiel enters him in one long press.

Dean shudders against him, hips rocking into his touch. Castiel stills him with his hands pressing against Dean’s ass, forcing him further down onto the desk hard enough to bruise, and leans over him. “Stay still, Dean, and you will be rewarded,” he whispers as his hand slips between the desk and Dean’s body and brushes his cock. When Dean’ doesn’t react beyond a moan, Castiel smiles and wraps his hand firmly around Dean’s cock. “That’s right. Very good.” He strokes once, then thrusts into Dean forcefully, setting a harsh pace.

“I love seeing you like this, Dean. Seeing you laid out for me in your panties and stockings. The lace accentuates your skin and your freckles, and the stockings let the world see your well-formed thighs.” Castiel gives a hard thrust, reaching around to pinch a nipple. “Anyone walking by in the hallway or in the windows of the other buildings could see you like this, Dean, spread out like a meal to be enjoyed. Do you like knowing that anyone could be watching you?”

“Yes,” Dean nearly sobs into the desk, “yes, please, Castiel.” He bucks up against the other man, who speeds up his strokes and matches them with his thrusts. Castiel presses closer and whispers in Dean’s ear, “I’ll always know when you’re wearing your panties and stockings, Dean, because you’ll be hard for me,” and Dean loses control, coming with a long moan across his desk, splattering come on spreadsheets and awards and his Sandover coffee mug. Castiel stutters, then stills and Dean feels the warm rush of Castiel’s release flood his body before both collapse on the desk, breathing hard.

Castiel recovers first, pulling out slowly as Dean winces and shifts his thong back in place. He’s sweating, sticky, and sore but sated, and he rolls on his back and sits up with a wince, avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel doesn’t follow the pattern Dean expects; he steps back into Dean’s space as Dean reaches for his clothes and stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Dean.”

Dean looks up and his gaze is captured by Castiel’s and he stares for a moment. Castiel slides his hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him close for a kiss, and Dean realizes this is the first kiss they’ve shared.

“I would like to do this again sometime.” Castiel says calmly, as if they’re not both naked and covered in come in the middle of an office building. “Next week, I expect you to be stripped and ready for me here, at six o’clock.” He kisses Dean again, deeply, and runs his hands across his shoulders, then pulls on his pants, picks up his shirt and tie, and walks out of the room as coolly as he entered it.

Dean sits on the desk, still naked and shocked.

This was not how he expected his evening to go.

He smiles. Not that he’s complaining.

 


End file.
